


Morning Afters

by garrideb



Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Flirting, Kissing, M/M, Morning After, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-17
Updated: 2011-07-17
Packaged: 2017-10-21 11:52:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/224896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garrideb/pseuds/garrideb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nick and Greg wake up in bed together for the first time. It would be an awkward morning-after, except it's neither awkward nor morning.  Written 4/2006</p>
            </blockquote>





	Morning Afters

Greg was a cup-half-full kind of guy, and Nick liked that about him.

“Look at it this way,” Greg said the night they woke up in the same bed for the first time. “We’re going to avoid lots of relationship pitfalls because of our schedules.”

It was evening so the sun was low in the sky, forcing its way past Nick’s blinds and throwing thin lines of light against the opposite wall. Nick’s radio alarm clock had gone off about fifteen minutes ago, softly playing the local country music station. They needed to head to work in less than an hour, but Nick couldn’t shake that pleasant lethargy that has kept him from detangling his limbs from Greg's.

He did have enough energy to turn his head, though. He looked at his coworker with a raised eyebrow. “Working the night shift is good for our relationship?”

Greg nodded enthusiastically. His hair was sticking out in wild spikes, as per usual. “Think of the things other couples have to put up with: awkward morning-afters, morning rushes, morning breath. But not us!”

With a laugh Nick reached one arm around the lab tech and ran his hand through the spiky hair. He’d discovered how soft that hair actually was just last morning, but like a good scientist he was compelled to recheck the evidence. Yup, still soft – he loved the way the bed-head spikes refused to be smoothed down. They sprang back up as soon as he removed his hand. “I hate to break it to you, but none of those things are exclusive to the morning.”

“Oh really? Then tell me, Mr. CSI, does this feel awkward to you?”

“No.” He answered truthfully.

“And do you feel rushed?”

“Well, no.”

Greg’s eyes positively sparkled in the low light of the bedroom. He leaned in to Nick until their noses almost touched. “How’s my breath?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything, but… remember that body in a bag?”

“Hey!” In retaliation Greg opened his mouth to breathe right into Nick’s face. Nick effectively foiled this evil plan, however, by capturing Greg’s mouth in a rough kiss. He shoved his tongue past the lab tech’s lips. Last morning, Greg had tasted like maple from the syrup in which he had smothered his pancakes. They’d grabbed brunch at a diner together after work before heading to Nick’s place. Nick had never been a big fan of pancakes, but that first searing kiss after shutting his front door had converted him instantly. Now, seven hours later, Greg tasted a little stale. Nick wasn’t about to let go of him just so he could brush his teeth, though.

When they finally parted, they were both breathing hard. Greg had wrapped one leg around Nick’s hips and used it to pull himself flush against the other man. “You don’t seem to mind my breath that much,” he panted.

“Yeah, well, your breath sucks. Your kisses don’t.”

Greg rolled his eyes. “Such flattery! Be still my heart! But… speaking of sucking…” He pulled back far enough that Nick could watch as the younger man licked his lips and eyed him obscenely. His foot was doing something against Nick’s inner thigh that was driving him crazy.

Nick swallowed. “Yeah?” He prompted, his voice downright husky.

“Speaking of sucking, what are we listening to?”

Nick stared at Greg, disbelieving. It took a moment to kick his brain cells back into gear. “Did you just put down my music, man? These are the great legends of country!”

“What happens when you play a country song backwards?”

“Oh come on, everyone knows that joke. It’s stupid.”

“All right. How many country musicians does it take to change a light bulb?”

With a growl Nick rolled until he was pinning Greg to the bed. “Keep that up G, and I might be forced to take drastic measures.”

Sighing dramatically, Greg closed his mouth and took advantage of his current position. He wrapped his arms around Nick’s chest and pulled himself up until he could tease the side of Nick’s neck with his teeth. After a minute of licking and biting the sensitive skin, Nick’s eyes were closed and sweat was beginning to bead along his hairline. Greg could feel his companion’s heart pounding where their chests touched. The lab tech smirked as he blew softly onto the bite marks and whispered, “How can you tell if there’s a country singer at your door?”

“That’s it!” Nick reached up and grabbed ahold of Greg’s wrists, then yanked them roughly above Greg’s head. The lab tech gave a halfhearted struggle as Nick repositioned his grip so that both wrists were pinned to the bed in one hand. “I’ll teach you to respect the rich culture of country music,” he growled. The punishment commenced, and soon Greg was writhing beneath Nick as the Texan tickled him mercilessly with his free hand.

“Stop! Stop! Uncle!” The words were barely coherent between Greg’s breathless laughter. “I take it back!”

Nick paused in his torture but kept Greg firmly pinned down. “And what, exactly, are you taking back?”

“Um… um, country music isn’t cruel and unusual?”

“Good enough.” Nick released his prisoner and sat up, swinging his legs off the bed. They really did have to get going. He stood up and stretched, relishing the soreness of his muscles. When he turned around he saw Greg propped up on one elbow gazing at him, clearly doing some relishing of his own.

“You hungry, G?”

“Yeah,” Greg replied, and raised an eyebrow suggestively. “What have you got?”

They settled on some left over sesame chicken, which Nick nuked in the microwave while Greg took a quick shower. When Greg stepped into the kitchen (freshly clean but wearing yesterday’s clothing) the first thing he noticed was the smell of coffee. Nick was standing at the counter with a coffeepot in his hand. “Would you like-” he started to say but Greg interrupted.

“You even have to ask?”

Nick smiled, pouring the steaming beverage into a mug and handing it to Greg. “Careful, it’s hot.” He warned. Greg just smiled and brought the cup closer to his face, inhaling the scent.

“You know,” he said conversationally as they settled down to their breakfast/supper. “Music should be like good coffee.”

Nick paused with a piece of chicken halfway to his mouth. He had a sneaking suspicion of where this was headed. “Is that so?”

“Yup. Stimulating, energizing… music should get your heart beating like a caffeine rush.”

Smiling at the younger man’s simile, Nick shook his head. “Sorry, Greggo, but you’ve got it wrong. Music should be like a good beer.”

“Chemically depressing?”

“Calming. Relaxing. A social lubricant.”

Greg snorted into his coffee mug and Nick grinned. They ate in silence for a few minutes before Greg finally spoke up. “Coffee and Beer, huh?”

“I guess so.”

Greg considered this carefully before saying, very firmly, “It’s a good thing, Nick. Very good. Kind of like Yin and Yang, you know? Only much tastier and thirst-quenching.”

Nick sent his friend an amused glance, but he was taking the words to heart.

The clean up was quick; Nick simply dumped all the dishes in the sink. By the time they were both at the door, arriving at work on time while driving at the speed limit was no longer an option. Nick was shrugging on his jacket and Greg had the keys to his car in his hand. “I think this will work,” the lab tech said suddenly, his voice serious. “I really think we can make this work.”

Nick looked at his friend, unsure of how to respond. Finally he settled on closing the few strides between them and pulling Greg into a kiss.

Greg was a cup-half-full kind of guy, and Nick loved that about him.

“By the way,” Greg called as he stepped out the front door. “What’s the difference between a country singer and a government bond?” He managed to shut the door just in time to block a package of latex gloves aimed at his head.


End file.
